


Sergio On Vacation

by ms_negi



Category: Real Madrid CF - Fandom, Soccer - Fandom, real madrid
Genre: Gay, Gay Sex, German National Team, M/M, a little bit of f/m, have i mentioned gay, real madrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:59:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_negi/pseuds/ms_negi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Serzil story. When Sergio Ramos decides to train with the German National Team.<br/>Things happen. Gay things happen.</p><p>how the fuck do you indent is it just me or is my story all bold wtf</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter of Sergio On Vacation

“What.. is this..?” Mesut looked up from the paper, staring across the table to Sami. Taking a 5 minute break, Sami showed the paper to Mesut. The two soccer players were in the Athletic Center of Germany National Team’s HQ. Snacking on an orange, Sami shrugged. “It's exactly what it says.”

With a sigh, Mesut slapped the paper down onto the table. It heading read, “STAR IN TOWN” with a picture of a smiling, young Sergio Ramos. This Sergio-guy was a popular new soccer player in Europe. He gained his fame in Spain's National Team as a Defender.

Everyone, which included Mesut and Sami, on campus knows who Sergio was.

“He's planning to try out for our team, you know.” Sami added.

“Hmm? That prick is just being modest. If he can buy his way into the team, if he wanted to.” Mesut sniffed, watching two girls walk by.

“But, he didn't.” Sami stated, being his fair self as always.

“Well, whatever. We gotta get back to practice.” Mesut, followed by his friend, walked back down stairs to the indoor soccer field.

After their soccer team practice, Mesut, suited with his street clothes and his gym bag over his shoulder, strutted out of the building. He looked up and noticed a huge crowd was forming, walking towards him. He froze. More confused, than shocked, though. Once they reached the door, a hand reached out and held the door open, taking it from Mesut. Still in awe, he looked over and saw a built Spaniard. “Thanks, Brother.” He flashed Mesut a large grin and slid into the building. Mesut stepped back as photographers and crazy college students filed through the double doors to follow the guy. As the glass door slowly closed, the turkish man knew. He just saw Sergio Ramos. “OROSPU.” Mesut swore in his native language.

**~*~*~*~*~**

The next day, Mesut and Sami were at a pair of benches. They mindlessly stared across the hallway, through the glass wall, watching Sergio play soccer with his new friends. A skinny Marco Reus walked up to them. “You guys should say hi to him.” Sami Khedira nodded quietly. Mesut sat back, his dull eyes on the smiling Spaniard. “Naw.” He finally answered, standing up. He turned towards the bench to pick up his water bottle and bag.

“Oh-- Speak of the devil...” Sami spoke up, teasing Mesut. Realizing what he meant, Mesut started to walk off, but felt something pull on his shirt. Looking back, he saw Sami holding onto his shirt, he was staring over at Sergio. The Spaniard was jogging over to them, eagerness flashed in his eyes. Swearing under his breath, Mesut stopped resisting and stood next to Sami. His bearded friend stood once Sergio got to them.

With an inviting smile, Sergio started to speak, “You guy are on the team right?” He nodded back to the soccer field.

“Yeah. You joining, bro?” Reus reached for a handshake.

“Cool! Hopefully, i'll be able to play with you one day... I'm Sergio.” He gave Reus his hand.

“We know.” Reus laughed. “I'm Macro...” He pointed over to the other two, “This is Sami and Mesut.” Quiet Sami just smiled. Mesut gave him a nod. They both shook Sergio's hand.

“What up, Brother?” Sergio smiled at the two friends. But, after getting a second look at Mesut, he snapped his fingers and pointed to Mesut. “You...! I saw you earlier. I'm sorry for the huge crowd. I'm trying to get away from them while i'm here...” Ramos confessed, “I'm just keep a low profile here. Well... I'll see you at tryouts!” Ramos quickly said bye to the three and jogged back into the soccer field room. Mesut smacked Sami's arm for holding him back and walked off. From across the room, Ramos watched as Mesut stormed off.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Mesut was alone at the center. Sami was off in town, and he had free time. So, why not practice a bit? Though, when he stepped out the locker room, he noticed Sergio at the field. It looked more like he was fooling around with friends rather than practicing to get on the team. Ozil sighed, pulling the glass door open. Finding a spot a few yard away from Sergio, Mesut put in his headphones into his ears and started to stretch. He tried not to peer over at Ramos.

Though, to his luck, Sergio spotted him out. He told his colleagues something before jogging over to him. “Hey, Brother!” He showed Mesut his stupid grin. “You need a practice partner?” He asked, looking eager. 

Mesut noticed this Spaniard was already sweating. Maybe he was taking his training seriously. He stood up straight from stretching his back and shrugged, reframing from be rude to the new guy.  
Sergio walked over to the nearby bleachers. He pulled off his red shirt and tossed it on the metal bar. Mesut couldn’t help but watch him, surprised how toned his back was. And, spotting his tattoos on his lower back. He quickly looked away when Sergio turned back towards him. “Let’s play!” Sergio got a ball from next to Mesut’s bag and jogged back towards him. The Spaniard playfully slapped the Turks back.

Letting his arms go limp, Mesut watched Sergio quickly pace backwards, still facing Mesut as he got yards away from him. Why was this guy so antsy to play with him?

As time went on, Mesut realized how good this Sergio-guy was playing. Well… Of course he played outstanding-- He’s the defender for Spain NT, for god sakes! Though, Mesut though he, himself was a good player, as well… Though, not as well as this professional, yet. He was still new to all this. Maybe, he was just being too modest. As the hour went on, the two soon got use to each other’s playing technique. Sergio was more aggressive on the ball, while Mesut controlled the ball well as it came flying towards him.

“You're good, My Brother!”

“I'm not your brother...”

“Huh??”

“I said thanks..!”

 

After a small group of scrimmage, most of Mesut's teammates left for the lockeroom. The Turk and Spaniard followed.

“So, what are you up to today?” Sergio asked, catching up to Mesut.

“Nothing, really.” Mesut didn’t want to tell him he was going to lunch with Marco later. 

Mesut waited for Sergio to jump at the free oppurtunity, but he just watch him nod. “Cool-- In an hour or so, i’m suppose to talk to Low… What’s he like?” Sergio looked concerned.

Mesut couldn’t help but grin. “He’s kind.” He answered shortly. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Mesut and Sergio both felt the heat of the showers once they paced into the cement room. Once they were at their own lockers, Mesut was stark naked, reaching for his towel in his locker, when he felt eyes on him. Puzzled, he slowly looked over his shoulder and got a glimpse of Sergio's eyes on him as he quickly disappeared around the corner, going towards the showers. “Wh...” Mesut quickly went into his gym bag and pulled out his cellphone. Not caring if he was busy or not, Mesut quickly dialed for Khedira and waited impatiently.

The ring stopped, “Yeah?”

“He's gay.”

“Ozil...? What are you talking about?” Mesut could hear Sami snack on something again.

“That-- That Ramos guy! He's gay...!” Ozil exclaimed as quietly as possible. He stopped talking as Muller and Bastian walked by.

“Mesut...”

“I'm serious! He check me ou--”

Then, Mesut heard some muffled giggling on the other side of the line. “Talk-- Talk to you later, Mesut. Lena here.” Then... Click!

There was many tabloids and tv shows recently saying that Sergio is gay. They posted stories he's “being too friendly with his guy-friends” and or, displaying pictures of him and other Spaniards kissing cheeks, or whatever. Mesut never really cared for tabloids, but after what he just saw, maybe it's true.

Mesut whined helplessly to himself as he made his iphone screen go black. His shoulders slumped over, feeling hopelessly, and headed towards the showers.

Sergio didn't try anything in there. Or, Mesut was probably just paranoid. He didn't see Sergio until they met at later that day.

Mesut wore his street clothes: Gray polo, and black skinny pants. His hair was pulled back by a hairband. The assist was spending his time with Marco, sitting outside of a small cafe when he saw Sergio from the corner of his eyes. He tried to act like he didn’t notice the spainard, but it didn’t help. He heard footsteps coming closer. 

“'Sup...!” Sergio called out. Mesut looked up. Sergio dressed differently. This guy wore a dress button-down shirt and pants. His shirt was transparent enough to see his tattoos on his arms and shoulder. He wore black Adidas to go with his outfit. The Spaniard hid his eyes behind a pair of Aviators.

Mesut thought it was impossible for this guy to be unhappy. “Hey.” His said, noticing Sergio carrying two KaDeWe bags. “Shopping?” He pointed out dully.

Sergio looked back at Mesut from shaking hands with Marco. “Ah-- Yes! What a beautiful store.” He commented, sounding like a tourist. “Got a jacket for me, and a watch for San Low.” 

“Why?” Marco chirped.

Sergio flashed him a big smile. “He agreed to let me join the team…!”


	3. Chapter 3

“SAMI.”

“Wha--”

The assist bardged on the couple who were taking a nap. Sami and Lena were cuddled together ontop of the bed. Mesut was perched up on their dresser across the room. The two slowly woke up from their afternoon nap. Lena was half asleep when Sami sat up. He gave his friend a death glare. Mesut didn’t care.

“Guess who’s on the team…!”

“Lena?” The german picked up Lena’s wrist and raised her hand in a celebratory gesture. The blonde giggled, still having her eye closed. 

“I’m serious! It’s Ramos.” 

Sami dropped his wife’s hand. “That’s grea--” 

“No it’s not…!” Mesut whined, his face falling into his hands. 

“Look-- He’s not a bad guy-- Who cares if he’s gay? It’s a compliment if he likes you, no?” 

The team went for a last-minute laud dinner party, celebrating Sergio’s admission onto their team. Everyone was there, sitting at a long dining table set for sixteen plus people. The boys were dressed up either in suits, or nice sweaters to blend in with the other customers of this fancy restaurant. Paparazzi was steaked outside of the building, glad they were able to get a few pictures of the German team filing through the front doors. 

Mesut was dragged along by Sami, and also Mario Gomez (Sami needed back up). He made sure to sit near them, hoping this night wouldn’t be bothersome. 

“Cheer up, kid.” Marco extended his champagne glass across the table to clink with Mesut’s. “Prost!” 

During the feast, Mesut concentrated on having fun hanging out with the teammates he never gets to see, like Gomez, or Schmelzer. However, he wanted to disappear into thin air when Low stood up to give a speech. Everyone quieted down and peered up at the coach. 

He blabbered on about welcoming the ‘best defender in the world’ to the team, and how eager he is to watch Sergio on the pitch with all his players. As the coach talking, Mesut had no intrested in Sergio, but had to act like he is. He looked up at the spaniard, and a second later, Sergio met his gaze. Frozen in awkwardness, Mesut watched Sergio nod and grin to him. He wasn’t flirting, it was just a gentle greeting from the head of the table. Mesut adverted his gaze to his plate. “Prost!” His coach finally said, and Mesut snapped back into reality. The turk tried not to look at Sergio for rest of the night. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

Mesut sighed, rubbing his temple. “I shouldn't have gone to dinner...” He found himself being placed on his bed by a teammate. At the time, Mesut couldn’t tell which one it was. He didn’t care, though. As long as he was home. 

“Oh, stop. It was fun.” The voice chimed in. And with that, he heard his bedroom door close, then the front door click shut. Mesut was left alone in his apartment for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Mesut paced into the building with Sami by his side. It was another day for training. With a hangover drilling against his temple, the assist wasn’t too eager to get out there and run around. 

The team started out with sketches. Out on the pitch, they all got into a circle and placed their yoga mats down. Mesut took a seat to Sami’s right. From the corner of his eye, he saw the blond spaniard set next to his own right. Ozil didn’t want to deal with this now. It was morning, a splitting headache annoyed him, and he needed more sleep. Overall, he wasn’t in a joyous mood. 

“Bueno Dias!” Sergio greeted with his signature grin. “How you feeling?” 

Mesut shook his head. “I'm fine.” He took a pause. “Warten...What?” ” Ozil looked up, seeming confused. “Why do you ask?” 

“You seemed trashed last night, brother.” 

Mesut froze. His eye widened, finally connecting the dots. A long smile appeared on Sergio's face.

“Did you--!?” Mesut choked, afraid of what his answer is.

Sergio bursted out laughing, “No, no! You left with your buddy, Marco. He picked ya up.”

Mesut sighed in relief and looked back down. He was glad Sergio didn't take him home, and orr try anything. He still had trust issues with this blond. 

Sergio chuckled and reached over, patting Mesut on the shoulder. “Don't worry, Brother! Your team got your back.” He reassured with a smile. “But-- It wasn't your idea to get you home, and all.”

Mesut looked back up, looking more confused than before. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, trying to think of what he meant.

“Since you were plastered, I took ya phone and called Marco for ya... And I stole your keys before ya left, and gave them to Gotze... since, he was leaving, you know.” He explained, using hand gestures.

Ozil sighed, feeling kind of thankful….

“You can say I was a little bit like a leader, don't you think?” He teased with a smile.

“Thanks.. For helping out.” Mesut was embarrassed. He felt like a total dick. “I’m sorry… If I ruined your dinner. I-- I mean no disrespect.” 

“Hey, no problem, Brother.” Sergio replied.

The gentle giant, Sami, grinned, feeling glad that Mesut was real with Sergio now. 

Their small conversation ceased and they continued the stretch.Mesut finally felt content with Sergio around him… Wait, what? ’Fuck.’ Mesut swore in his mind.. He didn't want Sergio's niceness to get to him. He still wasn’t sure about Sergio’s intentions-- if he had any. 

**~*~*~*~*~***

Hours later, and after a full day of training, Mesut was back at his apartment. It was pretty roomy. A bar kitchen next to the front door. A small living room a few feet away from the bar stools. To the right, were three doors, a bathroom and two bedrooms. The one in the middle is Mesut’s. Clean, not too much stuff in it. And then, there’s Marco’s room… That’s a whole different story. Overall, the turk found this space for him... A home away from home.

Relaxing on the couch with his books in lap and the dim lamp-light on, Mesut was reading a magazine article on Zadane. A sound of a knock against the door disrupted his silence. Mesut sat up, and looked over the couch to see Marco coming into the apartment. Though, he watched the idiot leave the door open for someone.

Mesut sighed, rolled his eyes, and went back to hiding behind the couch. Sergio was in the doorway, accompanying Reus back to his home-- Which, was also Mesut’s.

Reus nor Sergio noticed Mesut get up, and then go back down.

“Mesut!” Reus called out. “The fucking Spaniard is here!” He chuckled, slamming the door. Mesut could tell they had a few drinks already.

The turk sat up casually and nodded to both of them. “Hey.” With that, he just looked back at his paper. But, Sergio snatched him in a headlock before Mesut could even finish a sentence.

“Ack!! What--”

“Babe! You’re too boring!” From over the back of the couch, Sergio leaned over Mesut’s shoulder and grabbed the book from him. “Let’s watch some sports, shall we?” He suggested, letting go of Mesut, and saying that with only a few inches away from him. Mesut just jerked his head away from him in surprise.

Sergio rounded the couch to crash next to Mesut, making his seat jump. He took a glimspe at the magazine. “San Zadane?” He let out a chuckle, “You fanboy.” Mesut glared slightly at him. 

Reus dropped his gym bag down next to the kitchen and waddled over to a Lazyboy chair. Grabbing the nearest remote, Reus turned on the tv and changed it to a sports channel. He couldn’t find any futball games on, so, he just stuck with a basketball game.

As the two guys had their eyes on the screen, Mesut looked across Sergio’s body to find his book. Looking over to his left, he found Sergio holding it, his thumb on the page Mesut left off on. Mesut’s brows furrowed, wanting to snatch his book away from the drunkard. Who cares if he was a fanboy? He loved and admired Zadane. He wasn’t ashamed of that. However, Mesut wasn’t going to leap at Sergio for his book. He wasn’t that kind of person. Ozil kept it cool. 

Time passed by slowly. Mesut wasn’t interested in this particular game. Both teams were bad, and the number of penalties were ridiculous. He thought back to his own team, wondering if this year’s soccer team will be any better than last year’s. He wondered if Sergio will be a big contribution to this team. Speaking of him, Mesut kept his eyes on the screen, but he could also spot the Spaniard was taking a glance over at him. Before confronting Sergio, He peered over at his roommate.. Out like a light, his slim frame curled up in the chair. Only the two of them awake now, Mesut made up his mind, and quickly turned to Sergio with a pissed off look on his face.

“Why you here!?” Mesut quietly exclaimed. 

Sergio had a blank expression. “What...?”

Mesut waited for his answer.

“What. Can’t I just chill will my two friends...?” Sergio casually turned to the book in his hand and glanced at the pictures. 

Mesut fidgeted. “We’re not friends...!” He still talked in a low voice. “And-- Give me that!” Mesut leaned over his crossed legs and reached for his book.

Without batting an eye, Sergio quickly turned his head towards Mesut, leaning, and stopping Mesut from getting any closer. Their faces close once again. Mesut froze in an instance. “If we’re not friends...then,” Sergio paused to smiled at Mesut, taking a quick glance at Mesut’s slightly parted lips, then back up at his eyes, “What are we?”

Ozil couldn’t even seem to make himself breath. A light finally went in his in head. “You’re gay.” He exhaled, as if it was a fact.

And with that comment not phasing him, Sergio simply grinned. He leaned in and locked his lips with Mesut’s. As if in any romantic movie, the turk couldn’t blink. He was frozen with his heart beating against his chest. His mind was blank. What was happening? All he felt was his heart beating, his face turning red, and Sergio’s lips against his. After a moment, a thought finally popped in his head: This Spaniard is a good kisser.

Without struggle, Mesut was lightly, and slowly, pushed onto his back. He felt Sergio’s weight against him. At some point, Mesut surprisingly felt comfortable kissing this idiot, and completely forgot his surroundings. As the kiss became more intense and hands wandered, Mesut felt Sergio suddenly pull away from him without a warning. The turk was left laying on the couch as Sergio wiped his lips of spit and casually sat back in his spot to read the book. He was left there dazed, not realizing Reus was stirring in his sleep.

Hearing him groaning and gulping in his sleep, Mesut watched the Spaniard stand up and patted him to wake up. “Hey, Bud. I’ma gonna get back home now.”

The sleepy German simply nodded and shook his hand with his eyes barely open.

Turning, Sergio met with Mesut’s gaze. He smiled down at the wide-eyed turk. Without saying anything, he passed by Mesut as he ran his fingers through Mesut’s shoulder-length hair.

Eager for more touch, Mesut rolled his head back in response. It didn’t take long for him to hear the front door open, and then close. What was happening to him? He never felt like this with any guy before. Was he...? Mesut finally blinked, getting himself together. It can’t be. He continued to deny it as he stood up and retreated to his own room for the night, forgetting about his magazine on the couch.


	5. Chapter 5

Another day at the field. Fun. Mesut hung around Sami during stretching like always, but tried to ignore Sergio the best he could. He couldn’t help but look over at the Spaniard at times, hoping he wasn’t on Sergio’s mind. When Sergio and Mesut finally looked at each other, the image of their kiss popped into the turk’s head. Feeling embarrassed, he looked away quickly. Sami asked what was wrong. 

After stretching, Phillipp put everyone into the teams of scrimmage. Mesut looked around, and couldn’t decided weather that was lucky for him, or not. He wasn’t on a team with the Spaniard, but he still had to play against him. The assist knew there was little chance of him trying to keep away from the defense during the scrimmage. 

One time when Mesut and Hummels was making their way down the field, he caught Sergio coming towards him from the corner of his eye. As Sergio tried his slide kick, Mesut chipped the ball over Sergio’s legs and hopped over him. The turk took a quick glance at Sergio. At first, he had a surprised look pasted on his face, but then it turned into a smile. Trying not to smile back, Mesut continued to pass the ball back and forth to Reus. 

***~*~*~***

The whistle blew, and the 90 minute long game ended with a score or 2-3. Mesut, and others, clapped for the players. All sweaty and tired, Mesut fanned himself, wanting to take off his shirt. But, still paranoid with Sergio around him. He caught up with Sami and Reus to talk about how they did during the scrimmage. 

Luckily for Mesut, Sergio came up to him, patting him on his shoulder. “Hey, brother.” The spaniard sang. Mesut jumped, quickly turning around. 

“Shit-- dude! Don’t do that.” 

Sergio laughed at him, “Good work today… Usually, people don’t even notice me diving for the ball. Ya a good player, Babe” 

Mesut inhaled sharply, feeling a flood of embarrassment. “Don’t call me that...!” Mesut quietly snapped, reminded of last night.

Sergio raised his eyebrows in surprise. His smile disappeared. 

He felt his friends stare at him in confusion. Finding what he just said sounding a bit too harsh, Mesut frantically searched his bag-- which was at his feet-- and left the field. 

***~*~*~***

Later that night, Mesut was tucked away in his bedroom. His phone buzzed on his desk. Sami was trying to reach him. The turk didn’t speak to anyone since that humiliating afternoon. He knew he was being too paranoid, but didn’t realize how much it bothered him. 

Though, on the other hand, Mesut didn’t know what is feelings were towards Sergio. Everytime he thought of the kiss, his heart would race. And then his mind would wander off to an image of Sergio’s tattooed body, or his smile. Mesut shook his head, trying to concentrate back to the matter at hand. 

Just when Mesut was debating to himself, he heard a knock at the front door. Wondering if that was Marco forgetting his key again, the turk stood up from his bed and jogged towards the door. “Coming!” When he unlocked and opened the door, he thought he was going to see the German, but instead, he saw the Spaniard standing right infront of him. Stunned, Ozil stepped back. “You!”

Without another thought, Sergio stepped into the home and grabbed Mesut by the back of the neck. He locked lips with him as he slammed the door shut.

Mesut was shocked, all of these things happening at once. He was able to push Sergio away. He stumbled back a bit, gasping for air. “Why the hell are you here…!?” Stupid question.

Sergio didn’t smile. He was acting different than before. “Why don’t you like me?” He asked. There was a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. 

“What?!...” 

“Why don’t you!? I treat you with kindness-- I look out for you!” Sergio was going on and on.

Mesut shook his head, “I know that!” That turned Sergio silent, “I just-- It’s all going too fast, and I never had a… friend like you.” Mesut caught Sergio’s gaze. He was hanging on every word. “And… My religion…” 

Sergio relaxed a bit. “Does your religion ban homosexuality..?” 

That last word was burned into Mesut’s mind. ‘Am.. I gay?’ He thought to himself, biting his lower lip. “No… But-- it’s based on your personal choice.” 

“Then, what do you believe?” Sergio asked, daringly stepping forward

Mesut kept his eyes on the ground. His mind was going a mile a minute. He didn’t know what to believe. “I… I don’t know..” He sheepishly answered. 

Sergio’s body relaxed, exhaling. “I see. Goodnight, Mesut.” With that, he kissed the Turk’s forehead, his lips lingered for a moment, then left. 

Mesut breathed out all the tension in his body and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. He didn’t know how to deal with this situation. His mind says one thing, then his gut is telling him to do something different. Not in the mood to figure it out right now, Mesut retreated back to his room for the night.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, the German team had another practice. One more day before their first legit game. Everyone on the team was there. There was a lot of chatter and socializing.Though, Mesut was probably the only one barely working, or talking to anyone. As he did his stretches, Reus came up from behind him and smack him on the ass, like he did with everyone else. Mesut, stunned, quickly straightened up. “Reus!!” Mesut exclaimed, his face red. 

The skinny blonde just grinned. “C’mon, man! Get hyped! We have a game tomorrow! WOO!” He was jogging away from Mesut as he spoke. He threw up his fists in excitement. 

Mesut couldn’t help but smile. Reus was always energetic. Mesut was getting back to his stretching when a big shadow overlapped him. He looked up and noticed Sami standing next to him. “Ah--!” 

“Why didn’t you pick up my phone calls?” Sami stared at him. He looked like a puppy, who got kicked. 

“Sorry, man..” Mesut scratched the back of his neck. “I meant to.. But..” He swallowed, “.. I feel asleep early last night.” 

“Are you ok?” 

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, though, Sam.” Mesut reached up and patted Sami on the shoulder. Before Sami stepped away to stretch, Mesut stopped him, “Uhh-- Have you seen Sergio…?” He asked, trying not to sound worried.

Sami furrowed his eyebrows together, finding the question weird. “Uh, no. I haven’t…” He answered dully.

Just then, right outside of the indoor field, they could hear people chanting, “Traidor, Tradior!” out in the hallway. The players froze and looked out in the direction of the front doors of the building. “What are they saying?” Mesut blinked. 

“Verräter… I think.” Sami replies, knowing a little more Spanish than his friend.

“One second…” Mesut jogged up towards the doors of the indoor field and looked out the windows to get a better look. There were a handful of fans and paparazzi who seemed to be Sergio Ramos’ entourage today. Though, Sergio, nor the group, looked too happy. Some of them were actually fans trying to get him to sign a few things. But, the others were harassing him, calling out ‘traidor’ again and again, and saying something about going back to Spain. Mesut watched as the group and Ramos came up to the Mens’ Locker room door. Once the Spaniard went through the metal door, the group lingered outside of the locker room, still calling out for Sergio. 

Mesut was worried. Sergio was all alone in that room. What if one of the paparazzi enter the room? Where is the security? He quickly got the urge to save him. “Uh--” The Turk quickly turned back to the field. “Mario..! I need your help for a moment.” Mesut called over the biggest guy in his team. Hopefully he would be more intimidating than himself, a sheepish and awkward man.

After telling him what happened, Mesut walked out into the hallway with Mario leading the way. “Excuse me.” Mario’s voice boomed. The crowd looked back at Mario in surprise. It even scared Mesut just a bit. “Can you please leave? Unless you have a visitor's pass here, I need you to leave.” The man stood at least a few inches taller than the group. He had a stern expression on his face as he glanced down at them. As the big guy hurdled the cattle out the front doors, Mesut snuck into the locker room. 

Turning a corner, he found Sergio sitting in front of a locker, his face in his hands. “Sergio..” Mesut squeaked, unsure weather to step forward or not. Sergio sprang up to his feet, looking surprised. Then a smile grew on his face. “Hey, Amigo!” 

Mesut stared at him for a moment. It’s like he put on a mask to hide his feeling. “‘Traidor..’ ‘Traidor..’” The Turk tried out his spanish. “I know what that means in German..” He weakly pointed out. “But, you’re--”

“Fuck those guys.” Sergio’s voice deepened and his face went cold. Mesut shut up. “Fans of Spain National Team wants me back home. They don’t think me coming here in a good idea…” He hung his head slightly. 

He’s not an advice-giving-kind of guy, but Mesut tried. “Why… did you come here, then?” 

It seemed that Sergio’s face a bit red-- being shy of something. He scratched his neck. “I… I watch Germany National Team sometimes. I wanted to have a first hand experience with you…” Mesut raised and eyebrow but, Sergio shook his head, “I mean-- you guys. On.. the field.” 

Mesut tried not to smile at his trip up. “I see… Then.. Let’s go.”

Sergio looked up, slightly confused.

Mesut didn’t see what was confusing.. He gestured harder towards the door. “Let’s go. We have to practice. Isn’t that why you’re here?” 

Sergio saw what he was getting at. He needed to concentrate on the practice-- rather than what other think. His confused expression turned into a happy one. “Yeah. But-- J-Just wait, please?” 

Mesut didn’t mind. He nodded and waited in the small hall that lead to the door to the main hallway. He heard Sergio slam things into his locker. Sergio was trying quickly to not let Mesut wait so long. 

Once Sergio rounded the corner in his Adidas’ outfit, he looked back up at Mesut. 

Without saying anything, Mesut nodded towards the Spaniard and started to head for the door. But, his hand was caught by something. Mesut stopped and looked behind him. Sergio stood there, holding Mesut’s sleeve. Mesut stared blankly at Sergio’s red face. “...Wha--”

“Can we talk--... about last night?” Mesut never seen Sergio this hesitant. 

Mesut frowned and looked back towards the door, eager to get back out there. “Sergio, I…” 

“Please..! Let me say something…!” The Spaniard tighened his grip of his sleeve, his face turned stern. 

Mesut sighed and agreed. “Fine.” 

Sergio let go of Mesut and began his explanation, “What I did last night… I’m sorry. That was way over the line, and I didn’t take your situation, or feelings, into consideration..” Sergio barely kept his eyes on Mesut. He seemed uneasy. “But now-- I will respect, and cherish, that. Please dont hate me…” Sergio took a second to gulp, and then look up at Mesut. “I lied earlier. I.. came here for.. you, Mesut. Just for you.” 

Mesut was taken back by that. He felt kind of grateful for that, he guessed. “Wh..Why?” 

Sergio cracked a small smile. “Well… Ironically, I’m a ‘fanboy’, too...” He shook his head, though, “But-- I don’t want you to see me as one of those crazy fans that follow you everywhere, begging for an autograph, or a photo.” He fidgeted with his hands. “You’re a great futball player, and a great teammate-- I can tell. And.. You’re very kind. Like how to came in to see me.” He gestured back to the lockers behind the turk. Sergio stepped forward slightly. “After all this... Please don’t shut me out.” 

Mesut was silent for a second. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Appreciation? Gratefulness? He understood, though, where Sergio was coming from. It would be the same if he went up to the great Zadane. 

Mesut looked down at the gray tile beneath them, but let out a small chuckle. “Then… I guess I, too, have something to confess.” 

Sergio’s eyes turned bright. “Yeah??” 

Mesut adverted his eyes from him. “Well.. I don’t totally dislike you. And.. I appreciated what you did for me for the past two days. You are very kind and… way friendly.” Mesut still didn’t know if being ‘way friendly’ was a good thing, or not. “And.. I guess I… do like you, too..-- But--! I am still figuring out my beliefs, though!”

A smile grew on the Spaniard’s lips. His eyes grew bigger. “You.. Like me?” He asked, as if he was a grade student. 

Before Mesut could do anything, Sergio stepped into Mesut’s personal bubble and kissed him square on the mouth. Taking this by surprise, Mesut put up his hands, as if he was getting arrested, not knowing what to touch. 

Sergio pulled off his lips and wrapped his strong arms around Mesut’s skinny waist. Mesut felt his back lightly touching the metal door. 

“Thank you..” Sergio’s voice tickled the Turk’s neck. 

Mesut exhaled, relaxing. “You’re welcome.” His hands lightly touched Sergio’s back.


	7. Chapter 7

A day passed by and it was the morning before the game. A few hours, and they will be playing against Serbia. They had a short meeting after breakfast with the head coach. They talked about who was on the pitch first, the substitutes, and their strategies for the game. Since the game was at home, they had a good feeling about this game. The team couldn’t let down their fans-- especially since this game was at home. 

Mesut were one of the guys who were on pitch today. Khedira, and Reus was, too. However, his ‘amigo’, Sergio, couldn’t play since he wasn’t officially on the team. He had to sit out with the subs on the side lines. 

“Are you fine not playing today?” Mesut asked, making small talk. The team was at their stadium’s locker room already, getting dressed for the game. It was about 30 minutes away now before kick off. 

Mesut unzipped his jacket and Sergio looked over. “Me? Well…Yeah! I don’t mind watchin’. I love seeing you play.” 

Mesut couldn’t tell if he was appreciative to have Sergio watch him, or to be creeped out. “Hope I don’t disappoint…” He replied.

“Nmm.” Sergio shook his head, staying in his street clothes. He had no jersey to wear, anyways. “You won’t. I’ll be cheering for you, Amigo.” His hand reached over and patted Mesut on his shoulder. 

***~*~*~*~***

Mesut stood third person from the end of his team’s line up. Him and his teammates stood at attention while Serbia’s, then Germany’s, national anthem rang through the field and seating. After the songs, the teams turned to each other, shook hands, and headed to their side of the pitch. Mesut stood at his assigned spot. He prayed, took a deep breath and turned towards the audience. Everyone there was shouting and cheering for their home team, Germany. Like always, Mesut was grateful for all this support they send out to the players on pitch. It gave them strength, and reason, to win this game. 

His eyes scanned his teammates benched on the side. He met with Sergio’s gaze across half of the field. The Spaniard grinned widely, and clapped. It seemed like he was clapping for Mesut, specifically. Trying to act cool, Mesut slightly noded towards him, and concentrated back on the two in the center of the field. It was Serbia’s ball first. Mesut was ready for anything.

***~*~*~*~***

With his fans, his team, and Sergio supporting him, Mesut felt like he had the energy to win this game. And they did. With a few yellow cards here and there, the game ended with 3 to 1. Ozil scored the second goal, saving them from a tie at minute 31. When the whistle blew twice, the two teams shook hands then retreated to their respected teams. The Germans huddled together and celebrated. They jumped and cheered with each other. They acted like it was some World Cup they just won. 

Sergio squeezed into the circle, finding Mesut barely in the middle, and hook his arm around his waist. Mesut, in suprise, looked to his right and saw Sergio clinging onto him. Out of pure bliss, he smiled back, and threw his arm around the blond’s shoulder, singing along to whatever Reus and Muller were belting out. 

Down in the tunnel, the turk and spainard walked together to the lockerroom. Stripping off his uniform, Mesut wrapped a towel around his waist, and paced over to the showers. He stopped in his tracks when he heard a whipping sound, and his thigh started to hurt. “Ahh--” He quickly turned around to see Sergio butt naked, twirling his towel around. The two got some player’s attention who were already in the showers. Sami peered over everyone to see what his friend was yelling about. 

Mesut stepped forward and jokingly pushed him. “Stop it, you ass!” 

With a sly smile, Sergio grapped his wrist and pull him towards him. Mesut almost tripping over his own feet, felt the defender’s lips on his. Infront of everybody else.... Infront of his team!

Mesut froze, waiting for their whistles. But-- they cheered. The team either didn’t care, or they were too drunk from celebrating to care what was happening. The assist stepped away, surprisingly with a smile on his face. Sami smiled along with him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holidays present! Loll.  
> Happy Holidays.
> 
> *Warning: Smut

Days has passed since that game. And Mesut found himself at the door of Sergio’s hotel room. It was a week or so until Sergio planned to go back home to Spain. He had spent time with Germany’s National Team for almost four weeks. He told the team he would spend more time with them, but the fans and ‘ his brothers back on the team’ needed him. The German team understood, and was eager to go back to take practicing seriously again.

The door opened and appeared Sergio wearing a black and white shirt with a naked woman printed on it, and tattered blue jeans. “Oi! Amigo!” A big smile appeared on his face.  
Mesut shoved his hand in his jeans. He wore a lilac dress shirt, with a tight white top under it. “Oi.” Mesut mimiced back, “You ready to go?” He asked, talking about their night out. Mesut would never confess it was a date, even to Sergio. 

The giant smile was still stuck on Sergio’s face. “Yeah…!” Quickly grabbing his sunglasses and hotel key, he waddled out to Mesut and slammed his door closed. 

Taking Mesut’s Ferrari, they drove down to a spanish restaurant down aways. Sergio looked at big sign that stood outside of the restaurant. “‘Gastronomía De España’…?” He read the sign in a confused tone. 

“Gastro-ea;lhiea.. yeah.” Mesut tried not to smile. “I thought.. you would like to taste some real Spanish food again.” He confessed, feeling kind of weird being nice to this idiot next to him. The turk parked the car in the back of the parking lot.

“Aw, Mesut! I could kiss you…!” Sergio sang. 

Sergio was about to lean over and put a big one on Ozil’s cheek when Mesut spoke, “You better not. Look.” He nodded back towards the large flock of paparazzi starting to get out of their vans. Sergio looked out of the side mirror and sighed. “Oh well. I’ll get that kiss sooner or later.” He grinned, and winked over at the Turk. 

Mesut just shook his head and stepped out of his car, preparing for an ambushed by cameras in their faces. 

Sergio and Mesut walked, almost arm in arm, towards the restaurant-slash-bar. The two squeezed through the group and went inside. The waiter immediately recognized the two stars and quickly gave them a table in the back of the room, where it was more secluded. 

As the waiter left them with their menus, Sergio looked around at their surroundings. “How romantic. Just the two of us.” He grinned at Mesut. But, Mesut just shoved his shoulder jokingly. 

*~*~*~*

After a few strong drinks and an appetizer of cojondongos and Jamos, and a dish similar to Pescaito Frito, Mesut and Sergio found themselves in silence. Yes, people among the resturant was talking and laughing, but that seemed so far away from the couple. The two were honestly buzzed, and happy to be sitting next to each other. Under the table, Sergio massaged Mesut’s knee. Mesut, in responsed, tried to hid his smile and covered Sergio’s hand with his. With his free hand, the Spaniard touched Mesut’s chin and turned him back towards him. “I like that smile. You shouldn’t hid that.” And, with that, the two leaned in towards each other and kissed. 

After the restaurant, and a few hours at a club, Mesut did his best to drive to the hotel, as if he was sober with the babbling idiot sitting next to him. Mesut just planned to walk Sergio back up to his door, then drive back to his apartment. However, when they got to the door, Sergio tugged Mesut into the room with him. 

“Sergio.. I have to go.” Mesut lazily pointed out. 

Sergio acted like he didn’t hear him. He just stripped of his shirt and sat at the side of his bed. “Comehere, babe.” He grinned. Mesut stared for a moment. Sergio’s chest moved while he breathed. His abs were glistened with sweat from dancing with girls for hours. Mesut couldn’t help but feel jealous when he was out on the floor while he was sitting alone at his table. Though, it turned him on when Sergio’s gaze met with Mesut while he grinded on girls. 

When that image of Sergio staring at him under the flashing lights popped in his mind, Mesut grinned slightly. Before the Spaniard told him again, Mesut started walking towards him. 

The turk stood with his legs on either side of Sergio’s legs, pinning his knees close together. Mesut took Sergio’s jaw in his fingers, lifting his chin up. “You’re mine, right?” He asked, hinting to his jealous back at the bar.

The spaniard just grinned. “Of course.” Sergio looked down at Mesut’s body. He started to unbutton his dress shirt. 

Mesut let go and let the Spaniard work on his shirt. He watched, as if Sergio was some sort of slave to him. 

Sergio stripped the lilac shirt off to the floor and lifted the wifebeater up onto his chest to reveal Mesut’s stomach. “I’m yours.” Sergio hummed before kissed and licked at his stomach. 

Mesut tried not to flinch due to Sergio’s cold touch. He exhaled slowly, feeling the Spaniard’s hands move to his backside. He yearned for more. Mesut pulled off his undershirt over his head and stepped away from Sergio. “Get on the bed.” He nodded to the pillows as he stepped out of his jeans. 

Sergio, looking like an eager puppy, bounced back onto his back and shimmied back so his head was resting on his pillow. Sergio laid there with his shirt exposing his waist tattoo and his pants were already unzipped. 

Mesut climbed back onto the king-size bed and fit himself between Sergio’s legs. The turk leaned over and locked lips with the sexy spaniard. He felt Sergio’s hands linger, his fingertips tracing up his thighs. Mesut tired not to moan when the defender slip his hands under the fabric. “F-Fuck…” 

When the kiss broke, Sergio peered up with a smile at Mesut’s distressed expression. “You like that?” The blond teased.

Mesut gripped the pillows along side Sergio’s head. “A--a lot..” He mentally hit himself for sounding so bottom. Embarrassed, he hid his face in the crook of Sergio’s neck. 

But, Sergio shrug him off and pushed his body to sit up on his knees. “Watch me jack you off..” He told Mesut, taking his other hand and pulled the Turk’s boxers down below his balls. Mesut obeyed and tucked his chin in, looking down at what was in front of him. He saw Sergio laying below him, and both their taut stomachs. His mouth gaped open when his eyes landed on Sergio’s long fingers tugging, and sweeping over Mesut’s shaft. 

When Sergio daringly pulled a little faster, Mesut automatically bucked his hips. “A-Ah, fuck-- Don’t do that..!” He pleaded, sucking air through clenched teeth. Ignoring his plea, Sergio continued until the assist came onto his lower stomach tattoo. 

The defender looked down at the mess and chuckled. “You came…!” The drunkard exclaimed, sliding his down his stomach to his own erection. 

The turk kept his eyes shut, savoring the moment. He breathed out slowly. When he opened his eyes and peered down at Sergio, Mesut became embarrassed. “Don’t-- ahh!” Mesut was interrupted by Sergio flipping positions on him. Mesut was laid out under Sergio, his head falling slightly off the foot of the bed. “Sergio!” Mesut exclaimed trying to get up. 

Sergio pinned him down with a grin on his face. Mesut tried to struggle away, but he was stronger. “Too bad, Baby.” He leaned down and his lips brushed against the assist’s ear. “I’m never bottom.” 

The turk groaned, feeling Sergio’s hands on his junk once again. He was eager to dominate Sergio, but, things turned out differently. “You… asshole.” 

Sergio sat up, his face written with a confused expression. “Asshole, you say? Ok.” And ripped open a condom packet he got from his nightstand. 

Mesut felt a cold sweat down his back. “Wait-- Wait!” Mesut propped himself up with his arm, and put a hand on Sergio’s chest as he rolled on a pink condom. Sergio paused, turning his attention to his lover. “I-- I never done this before..!” The turk confessed. He wasn’t a virgin-- obviously, but, he was talking about never having done anal sex before. 

Sergio was silent for a moment, and then grinned at the noobie. “That’s too cute…!” Tossing the wrapper away to the side, he leaned over to lean his forehead against Mesut’s. “It’s okay, baby. I wont hurt you.” And placed a peck on his lips. 

Mesut breathed, he felt suddenly calm when Sergio reassured him. The kiss helped, too. “Y.. yeah…” He reached up, and brought Sergio’s face back to his. Their lips locked again as Mesut laid back down.

After a minute, Sergio pulled away, kissing along his jawline. “Turn over.” He told him in more of a calming tone. 

Hesitantly, Mesut agreed. Sergio sat up to let Mesut turn onto his stomach. Sergio leaned back down to kiss the turk’s shoulder. His erection pressed against his ass. Mesut flinched.

The spaniard rested his chin on Mesut’s shoulder, frowning down and looking over at Mesut’s eyes. “You ok? We dont have to do this.” 

“No.” Mesut said sharply. “I’m fine.” He was blushing, starting to get use to this. He also liked how he was positioned under Sergio-- spread out and dominated.

“Whatever you say, baby. I’ll be gentle.” Sergio kissed the side of Mesut’s neck, giving him sweet reassurance. 

Mesut waited for him to do something else, but there was a pause. Before he asked what was wrong, he felt something cold slip between his cheeks. “Ah!” He was about to sit up when a hand pressed him gently down in place. “Sergio??” Mesut looked over his shoulder and only saw Sergio sitting on his knees, hovering over him. 

“It’s ok. Just some lube.”

Mesut blushed at the word. He never had any reason to use lube, ever. This was the first time he was with a guy. And, when he was with a woman, they didn’t need to use lube. No matter who it was, they were so wet for Mesut that it was easy for him to slip himself inside them. 

He felt Sergio’s hand run slowly over his backside, over the glob of liquid. A cold shock when up Mesut’s back, making him moan. He heard a small chuckle from Sergio. “S-Shut up.”

Sergio ignored that remark and stared down at the back of Ozil’s head. “You ready?” He asked, grinding his dick against’s Mesut’s ass.

The turk gulped and looked sheepishly over his shoulder. “Y-Yeah…” His fingers gripped the bedsheets.

Without saying anything else, Sergio pressed a firm hand against Mesut’s lower back and pushed himself into Mesut. 

“Agh--Ahh..” Mesut wiggled underneath Sergio with his eyes knit shut. 

Sergio leaned over Mesut’s body, hands pressed against the mattress, lined up with his ribs. His long blond hair hung down, hiding his face. “You’re ok.” He reassure, “Just tell me if you want me to stop.” 

Mesut’s heart was racing. He could feel Sergio inside him. However, he didn’t realize how painful this was. “N-No..” He coughed, “Keep going.” His voice was a mixture of pain and pleasure. 

Mesut didn’t hear Ramos say anything else. He just felt the spaniard start moving against Mesut’s ass. The mattress started to move with the two bodies, rocking back and forth. Moans escaped Mesut’s parted lips. 

The two bodies slapped against each other, sweat accumulating. Sergio, getting more hot and bothered, quickened his pace. The bed started to creek.

Mesut’s huffs hitched. “A-Ah!” His body reacted, his hip bucked against Sergio’s body. He felt his cheeks burn, his palm sweaty against the bedsheets.

Above him was Sergio squeezing his eyes shut, feeling something turn in his lower stomach. The spaniard gripped Mesut’s back again and pounded into him faster. “Ah, fuck! I’m cl-close..!”

Mesut heard this but didn’t answer. He braced himself for what could happen next. He bit down on the bed sheet, trying to muffle his moaning. However, something caught in his throat when he felt something fill his hole. After a moment, he was able to catch his breath. “Ahh~” He exhaled, laying his body flat below the spaniard, “Sergio~~!” Mesut whined with his eyes closed. 

The turk let out a gasp, feeling his back end gaping. Sergio let out a laugh. “Don’t worry. My condom didn’t break..” He said as he carefully pulled out of Mesut. After taking off the plastic and tying it, Sergio laid back onto Mesut’s body. He heard the guy underneth him groan in pain. 

“I can’t breeeathh.” The turk told him, his face covered with Sergio’s. 

Sergio planted a sweet kiss on the turk’s cheek. “I love you, babyy~” 

Mesut hid his smile and shrugged Sergio off of him. “You’re heavy!” 

Ramos landed on his back next to the turk. He proped himself on his arm, and frowned. “Why dont you say it?” 

Mesut didn’t want to move his sore body. He just turned his head to the side. “Say what?” 

“‘I love you.’..”

Mesut stared at Sergio for a moment. He felt nervous all of a sudden. “I.. Love you.” He adverted his eyes, though. 

Sergio smiled. “Te Amo, stupido.” The spaniard grabbed Mesut’s chin and planted a big kiss on his lips. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

So, that was it. After the next week had passed, Sergio was seated on a plan, going back to Spain. Mesut, Sami, Lahm, Low, and a few others were at the airport to see the guy leave. It was somber to watch him leave. Especially for Mesut. the couple spent the last week together. They promised each other they would skype, and write letters to each other. You know, lovely-dovey couple stuff. 

The two obviously planned to meet again in person one day.


End file.
